


Unmasked

by Engelsoft



Series: Children of the Maw [2]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: But warnings are always provided at the start of each passage I write, Gen, Lots of canon-typical spooky shadow magic too, Lots of manipulation and brainwashing, Oh gee I'm pretty bad at tags, So you can read those for more info, Tis what the Lady does, headcanons, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engelsoft/pseuds/Engelsoft
Summary: A series of passages based on my own headcanons about the Lady's life. Please enjoy and I'd love to know your thoughts!
Relationships: No Romantic Relationships - Relationship, mother-daughter relationship - Relationship
Series: Children of the Maw [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924753
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. Apprentice

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi there! This is going to be a series of passages about the Lady's life, based on my own theories and headcanons about her experiences and character. I apologise for any possible OOT that might come from my headcanons and such, but I hope it's an enjoyable read nonetheless. This work is a stand-alone, separate from my other Little Nightmares story 'Children of the Maw.' It's not necessary to have read that one to understand this one, but if you have read both then you may pick up on some little links between the two.
> 
> Disclaimers and Such: I've included some historical elements from Japanese culture into these passages and I'm hoping I did them justice. I did my best but apologise for any inaccuracies. I'm not an expert or anything, just wanted to enrich the work with some traditional features to tie in with the Maw's Japanese-inspired themes. Also: I do not own Little Nightmares.
> 
> Warnings for this passage: Mother-to-daughter manipulation; implied brainwashing/hypnosis.
> 
> As always I'd love to read any and all feedback you're willing to give, and with all that stuff out of the way, please enjoy! ^-^

The Lady hadn’t always been the Lady. There was a time when she was just Emiko: ‘prosperous, beautiful child.’ It was a name given to her by her mother. Emiko did not know her father.

“Your beauty sets you apart in this world, Emiko,” her mother would say as she combed Emiko’s long black hair in the mornings and evenings. “The world is full of ugliness, all around us. We mustn’t let it taint us.”

Emiko had always agreed with her mother, nodding obediently. Her beauty was something to be preserved, something that held her above others. It wasn’t long before the child viewed herself as separate, superior.

“One day you will become Lady Emiko and you will be tasked with looking after this place,” her mother said, gesturing widely to the expansive space. “You will be the leader of this ship and you will carry the family name.”

“Will I have a child one day?”

“Yes, you will. A daughter.”

“What about a son?”

Emiko’s mother paused her brushing and made a sour expression in the mirror. “Only women can be geisha. If you have a son he will not be suitable.”

Emiko’s mother held out her hand expectantly and Emiko passed her an ornate ivory comb that was sitting on the vanity. Her mother deftly twirled it through Emiko’s raven hair and pinned it in an elegant hairstyle.

“It is the highest honour to carry on our bloodline, Emiko. The feminine beauty, the magick. Do you understand?”

“I understand, mother.”

“Good.” Emiko’s mother stood before Emiko’s chair and tilted her daughter’s head with a delicate hand, assessing every inch of her face in the mirror’s surface. Emiko sat still, hands clasped delicately in her lap, waiting patiently for her mother to finish.

“Posture,” Emiko’s mother corrected, adjusting her daughter’s shoulders with slender fingers. Emiko straightened herself and put on a calm, soft expression. Her mother moved around the chair, still focused on her daughter’s powdered face and flawless hair. “Satisfactory,” she announced. “Now for your studying.”

Emiko slipped off the chair, the ornaments in her hair gently clinking. She followed her mother into the study, practicing her poised and elegant tread as the dark kimono trailed after her. She knelt on a velvet cushion, neatly smoothing the kimono as she did so, and opened the book on the table before her to resume her reading.

The book was about spells, magick - all the power that her bloodline carried. The pages whispered secrets of shadows and dark power to her, and Emiko loved it. She read for hours, her hands folded in her lap and her posture eternally straight, entranced as she pored over the pages and her mother hummed a repetitive three-note tune in the background. Someday she will have perfected that magick, and she would control the world as she wished, just as her mother did.

Emiko hardly noticed her mother leaning over her to close the book. She blinked, snapping out of her haze. Her mother gracefully extended a narrow hand down to her and Emiko took it, getting to her feet.

“Not so tight,” her mother chided, adjusting Emiko’s grip on her hand. “Delicate, delicate...You’re a matriarch. You must be perfect - elegant and beautiful at all times. You do not wish to be like the rest of the world’s ugly inhabitants, do you?”

“No, mother.”

“Good. You must prove that you are different from them. You must be perfect. Walk with your head held high and show them that you are superior. Make them bow to you, Emiko.”

“I shall, mother.” And she meant it. That seedling of darkness her mother had planted inside her was growing. Growing, unfurling and corrupting. “I know I was born to rule, and the Maw shall know it too.”

Emiko’s mother nodded. A ghost of a smile played on her lips, the only indication that she was proud of her daughter. “Come now. Time for practice.”

...oOo…

Honing her magick had always come naturally to Emiko. The darkness seeped out of her skin and swirled around her - oh so intoxicating, oh so hypnotic - and the more Emiko gave into it the stronger it became.

All the while, her mother looked on with a fraction of a smile, relishing the progress her apprentice was making. Emiko was obedient and talented. These were the two qualities that made a model student.

“I have no doubt you will be a perfect successor to me when the time comes, Emiko.”

Emiko was gracefully manipulating the dark mist around her, forming it into small humanoid figures that walked on their own for a few seconds before stepping into the light and dissolving. She smiled softly in response to her mother's praise, a proud blush colouring her pallid cheeks.

“However, you must be wary of the light. Darkness is where your power and beauty thrive, and light is the embodiment of ugly and evil. Should there ever be anyone who wields light, they will overcome you.”

“I know, mother. It is in the books I read.”

Her mother came closer, standing over her. Emiko watched as her mother released her own black tendrils, letting them lazily swirl around the dim room. Emiko watched, enthralled. 

“Stay close to the shadows, Emiko. They will protect you. Light must be squandered, do you understand? Light is ugliness, and ugliness is a tumour that will cause us and everything we work for to perish. The Maw will not tolerate the threat of light. You must protect the Maw with your magick once I have died.”

Emiko closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, arms raised as she called her own darkness to re-enter her body. The tendrils flowed towards her, deliciously curling around her limbs one last time before they faded back under her skin. She opened her eyes. “I will grow stronger, mother. I will not disappoint you.”

Her mother’s tendrils were cascading back as well, swimming up her sleeves and vanishing under her skin. She took Emiko by the shoulders. “That’s right,” she drawled, her voice like honey. “You must not disappoint me.”


	2. The Janitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady meets Roger, the Janitor, for the first time. She also makes some...alterations...to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Manipulation, blackmail; implied brainwashing/hypnosis; souls getting extracted and all that jazz.

“What is your name?”

“Roger.”

The Lady regarded the man cooly, eyeing him with displeasure. “I am a Lady. You shall regard me as such.”

The man flushed and bowed his head. He adjusted his collar despite it not needing fixing. “O-of course, I’m sorry. My Lady.”

“What do you seek upon the Maw?”

“Refuge,” the man said, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “The outside world is…” he chanced a look at the Lady, her youthful face and black eyes that hinted at nothing. Despite this, he steeled himself and continued. “It is no place for someone like me. I’ve witnessed it’s evils. I-I’m a woodcarver and a doll maker...perhaps I can make toys for the children here on the Maw.” His hand nervously brushed a suitcase by his side.

“I see,” the Lady said. She gestured lightly to Roger, inviting him to open the case. “I presume you have brought samples of your handiwork? Show me.”

Roger’s long fingers hastened to unclasp the latches on the suitcase. He brought out a pair of wooden dolls, intricately carved and lovingly dressed in brightly-coloured clothing. Though they were wooden, their faces were full of expression as though they were laughing.

The Lady took them in her pale hands and turned them in the dim light, examining their features. Her face was still impassive. Beautiful, but emotionless. Once finished, she silently handed them back to Roger and he carefully returned them to the case.

“Your toys are satisfactory. I believe the children will enjoy playing with them.” Here, Roger’s shoulders relaxed and some of the tension in his body melted away. “However,” the Lady continued, and he straightened again. Her voice was soft, yet it had a commanding undercurrent that he was too nervous to resist. “There are alterations that must be made in order for you to stay on the Maw. I only accept those who have the Maw’s best interests in mind.”

“Of course, my Lady,” Roger said quickly. “Whatever it is you need me to do, I’ll do.” He bowed his head in respect, ignoring the beads of sweat that were breaking out over his skin. He didn’t want to blow his chance - he needed the Maw to accept him. He’d seen the terror of the outside world firsthand, and the Maw was the only place that he could go now. The Maw was different. It was a good place. It rescued children and cared for them, it hosted annual feasts for people who couldn’t afford to eat. All these things he’d read from newspapers proved that he wasn’t the only one in the world who had a pure heart. And so here he’d fled, wanting to live and work upon the ancient vessel.

“First you must be trained to work with the children,” the Lady stated, crossing the room. “Please, come this way. Leave your belongings here, the Bellman will attend to them shortly.” With a sweep of her arm, the Lady guided Roger into another room where an elevator stood waiting. They rode it down in silence, into the deeper parts of the Maw.

Roger fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, looking at the floor. “My Lady...I, uh, have a question, if I may?”

“Speak it.”

“These…alterations. What do they involve?”

“They are nothing of concern,” the geisha replied simply. “Firstly we must focus on finding a place for all of your belongings, yes?”

Roger nodded, pursing his lips. “Of course.”

When the elevator opened, the Lady glided out and Roger stumbled after her. It was quite dim here, and he blinked to let his eyes adjust. He hurried to follow the Lady, who was already quite a way ahead down the narrow hall. They reached a door at the end with an ornate brass knob. The Lady delicately opened it and waved Roger through with a gentle flourish.

The inside of the room was very sparse: wooden walls, carpeted floors, simple but elegant furniture. It was also quite dusty. Was this going to be his new dwelling? Roger turned and opened his mouth to ask, but his voice died away when he saw that the Lady was standing right behind him, silent. Tiny, dark particles were flowing around the hem of her kimono. He blinked confusedly and looked again. Nothing. Simply his nerves, a trick of the light.

“The first alteration will begin now,” the Lady said in her soft, commanding voice. “Please relax and open your mind fully to my instructions. Your training is about to commence.”

Roger’s eyes locked with the Lady’s, seeking some sort of explanation, but her long-lashed eyes and flawless face betrayed nothing. She was almost ethereal in her elegance, a beauty and aura so bewitching it made him forget how to walk, how to speak, how to think.

Wisps of blackness swirled around the two, screening the room from view until it was only the Lady he could see. Roger hardly noticed the dark magick pressing in from all sides - for he was focusing solely on the Lady’s face. Finally, she had shown some expression. A smile, a twinkle of amusement in her ebony eyes, and he couldn’t look away. Roger’s mind melted easily under her influence, softening to mush. How willing he was to obey her, how badly he wanted the Maw to accept him. The Lady’s smile deepened.

“First you shall be immortalised as the Maw’s servant,” the Lady whispered into his mind as her tendrils danced hypnotically before his face. A thrill swept across his skin as the shadows licked around him and tugged at the depths of his soul. “I shall pluck out your essence and place it inside a wooden shell, and then you shall be reprogrammed to serve the Maw.”

Roger nodded dumbly as the tendrils continued tugging, as if they wanted to pry his soul from his body. 

“You’ll live happily ever after on the Maw. You can make your toys and tend to the children and be forever safe. Doesn’t that sound lovely? You’ll be my happy, bumbling little puppet.”

The Lady’s lips curved maliciously as she realised something. She leaned in close and parted her lips to whisper into the man’s ear, her tendrils writhing and weaving deeper inside him all the while. “How ironic…” she drawled. “Fate is _such_ a cruel mistress. You’ll be exactly the same as one of your little dolls…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ^-^ I’d love to know what you thought! (This is all just based on my own headcanons and possible theories and stuff)


	3. Crumbling Façade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rare side of the Lady is shown, in which she struggles with her imperfections and the crushing weight of her mother’s expectations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this passage: Referenced child mistreatment and death; referenced past death; suicidal ideation.

The mask had been custom-made, and it fit the Lady’s face perfectly. She assessed it now in one of the few mirrors she had left, turning her head at every angle to seek any faults, but as always the mask was no less than flawless. It was perfect.

But what it hid was so utterly and horrifically _imperfect_.

The Lady no longer met her mother’s standards. Though her mother had died decades ago, the Lady still felt the weight of the immense pressure that she’d loaded onto her shoulders. It was all around her; those statues and mirrors and portraits that seemed to taunt at her imperfections whenever she passed by them. Over the years she’d done away with them - covered them, hidden them, broken them...sealed them away in lonely rooms where only cobwebs and dust could see them. And then she’d surrounded herself with hideous things to make herself feel more beautiful.

It still wasn’t enough. Despite all these efforts, her mother’s words continued to echo constantly as she gazed back at her reflection. The voice that spoke them was long gone, but the words still cut deeply: _You must be perfect. You must be perfect._

In mere seconds, rage overflowed and the Lady shrieked, turning away from the mirror as her magick lashed out and splintered its surface. The lights flickered as she gathered her arms around herself and paced out of the space, her kimono’s hem trailing over the shards of glass.

She couldn’t bear to look at herself anymore. She continued through the dusty wardrobe where mannequins stood poised on either side of her. Though their faces were smooth and expressionless, the Lady felt as though they were laughing and jeering at her. 

Eventually, she crossed the threshold of her bedroom and slammed the door behind her with an angry burst of magick. Once alone and safe from the judgemental eyes of the Maw, the Lady slumped into the chair before her broken vanity and buried her face in her hands.

She had tried to be perfect; she had spent every waking moment trying to live up to her mother’s standards...

It wasn’t enough. She could never be perfect. She was worthless; she was the vermin that her mother had warned her of. The spell she’d cast to keep herself eternally young and beautiful was weakening after so many, many years and there was no disguising the Lady’s true age. Her hair was grey and brittle, and her face was bloated and ashen, like an undead old woman. How old was she now…? She’d certainly outlived her mother, and she’d lived past any mortal age as well; that much was certain.

She had not had a daughter either, and now there was no-one to carry on the family bloodline. The Lady had never found a husband; she feared she was too imperfect and ugly. Too much time had passed since then, and she’d missed her chance to have a child. With no biological daughter to pass her magick on to, the Lady had tried to find one instead.

She knew that throughout the world there were a few rare children who had the ability to use different kinds of magick or abilities. Knowing this, she had tried to find a young girl of suitable calibre on the Maw itself, searching through the multitudes of child prisoners to find a gem amongst the scraps. There had to be a girl - _just one girl_ \- who would make a satisfactory apprentice and geisha, but despite her decades of searching, the Lady had found no such child on the Maw. The Wax Bellman had spied on her behalf for years, seeking any children who were ‘different.’ Children who appeared unusually powerful. Children who didn’t socialise well with others. Children who seemed ‘mad’ or dangerous.

Children who fit these criteria were snatched up and locked in the special rooms of the Prison - boys as well as girls, since the Lady had grown desperate to find _someone_ \- and experimented on until they either developed powers or died. To date, all the children ever taken to the Mad Rooms had perished, too weak to withstand the Wax Bellman’s testing. Their useless, broken bodies had been strung up on hooks and carried off to the Kitchens for the next feast.

The Lady sighed deeply, strands of hair coming loose from her bun and falling around her face, but she did not care. At times, she had wanted to leave the Maw to search for a successor herself, but it was impossible. The Maw would sink should she and her magick stray too far away from it. The outside world was far beyond her reach. Though it crushed her to admit, the Lady was trapped within the Maw just as much as the children she kept as prisoners. Her mother had told her it was her duty to continue the life-cycle of the Maw, but she had never been told _why_.

What was the point? The Lady hadn’t found an apprentice in so many years, so she doubted she would find one now. She touched her thin hands to either side of her masked face, her posture hunched in anguish. What would her mother think? If she were here she’d be given a harsh slap and told to sit straight, to give no hint of emotion. _You must be perfect, Emiko!_

 _I can’t,_ the Lady cried within her own head, a plea directed at no-one but also everyone. _Don’t look at me. I’m too ashamed to even use my own name._

Emiko meant ‘beautiful’...but she was not beautiful. The Lady slowly straightened up, looking into the shattered remnants of the vanity mirror where her mother used to comb her hair. The fractured reflection of the mask stared back at her with no emotion, even though the true face underneath it was contorted with so much suffering. What a perfect façade.

How long had she suffered alone? How long had she been trapped? The Lady wrapped her arms around herself again, bowing her head in shame as the shadows pressed around her. She wanted to crumble like one of her Shadow Children. She was sick of the darkness; the darkness that trapped and lied and was an apathetic witness to her pain.

_Maybe the light…_

_No._ The Lady squandered the thought as soon as it appeared. Or rather, the voice of her mother did. Light was dangerous. Her mother had told her that countless times, and she’d read it in countless books.

_Maybe that beautiful force...that beautiful, yet forbidden force…_

She couldn’t disappoint her mother. She had to stay, to find an apprentice and ensure the Maw’s survival. No, she couldn’t disobey her mother. But then again, the Lady realised...she already had. What did it matter if she abandoned herself and the Maw? She was already such a failure, and had been for decades. It was all so pointless. She wasn’t even sure why it was so crucial for the Maw to survive at all. So...what did it matter if she strayed just one more step away from the path her mother had forged for her? Just one more step out of the darkness…?

 _Maybe..._ the Lady began again. She allowed the thought to bloom fully, listening to it despite how uncomfortable and forbidden it felt.

_Maybe the light will be my saviour._


	4. A Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady learns of a threat to the Maw, an escaped child, and does everything in her power to eliminate them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this passage: Magical violence; cursing of children.
> 
> A/N: Hey readers! This is what I’m planning on being the second-last passage in this collection. I know it’s quite short, but I hope it’s good ^-^ I can’t really say when the next and final passage will be out, because I’m very busy these days, but rest assured I have it all mapped out and it’s just a matter of getting away from my uni work to actually write the thing! Anywho, I hope you’re enjoying this little series!

She combed her hair herself these days, since her mother was no longer here. The Lady ran her fingers gently through the raven-black curtain of her hair, softly humming the same three-note tune that her mother had sung. There was a bittersweetness to this routine, the Lady realised. This had been one of the parts of her childhood that she had loved; it had filled her with a sense of peace, as well as pride at her heritage and bloodline. But the thoughts of her overbearing mother that accompanied the memory...that was the bitter part.

The Lady picked up her ivory comb and began the slow process of combing every inch of her hair from root to tip. She passed over each section multiple times, to make sure she had done a thorough job. The Guests would be arriving very soon and she wanted to look her best. Not for them, of course - they would be too overcome with her Hunger spell to even notice her beauty - but for herself. She would not allow herself to be anything less than perfect. On the surface at least.

Her collection of porcelain dolls watched on as the Lady prepared herself for the feast. She gently stroked the nearest one’s pale cheek, it’s face so youthful and angelic that it looked almost lifelike despite not being a real infant. There were no real babies upon the Maw. The Lady had missed her chance to conceive one, and now she had to make do with a display of porcelain ones to fill the hole in her heart.

A loud and deliberate knock interrupted the Lady’s humming. She paused her preparations and set down the ivory comb, turning towards the door.

“Enter,” she called.

The brass doorknob rattled and a man came inside, or rather, a tall monster molded from wax. He looked around nervously - gazing at everything but his mistress, it seemed - bowed hastily, and then fished a piece of paper from his blood-red coat.

“Wax Bellman,” the Lady said haughtily. “What is it?”

“Urgent news, m-my Lady” he oozed, extending the paper towards her with a shaky hand.

The Lady eyed him cooly before gracefully taking the greasy paper from him and examining it. It was a drawing of a small figure in a yellow raincoat, the hood pulled over their head. It had been obviously drawn by a young child, or perhaps a Nome.

“Who is this child?” she asked.

“On the back,” the Wax Bellman replied, gesturing for her to turn over the piece of paper.

The Lady did so, flipping over the drawing to see writing that the Bellman had scrawled on the other side.

_Name: Six._

_Age: Unknown._

_Gender: Unknown._

_Description: Possessions include a distinctive bright yellow raincoat and metallic lighter. Little else is known._

_Location: Unknown._

_Notes: Last sighted heading west of the Unloading Bay. Highly intelligent. High risk of jeopardy to the Maw. Capture is of highest importance._

“They escaped?” The Lady demanded. Her voice was like a knife slicing through the quiet air. The single light fixture above them blinked fitfully, as if it were cowering from her wrath.

The Bellman nodded nervously, head bowed. He cleared his throat, prepared for what would happen next. “Y-yes...my Lady.”

As soon as the words left his lips, the lights trembled even more and a wave of black mist surged forward from the Lady’s being. It shot towards the Bellman and gripped him tightly, lifting him so that his toe-tips only just skimmed the carpet. She clenched her fist, and the tendrils of shadow twined around his neck grew tighter.

“Find. Them,” the Lady hissed. “Do you hear me? Kill them.”

He spluttered, coughing drops of wax onto the carpet. “...Yes,” he managed to gurgle.

The Lady eyed him from beneath her mask, her grip still strong as iron. Finally, she released him, or rather, tossed him aside. The Bellman dropped to his knees and coughed again, melted wax oozing down his chin as he held a hand to his throat.

The Lady’s magick swarmed back towards her and dissolved into her being, invisible once more. Even still, the Bellman could feel its presence, like a concealed weapon.

The Lady stood above her servant. “The Guests will be arriving very soon. Do you know what this means? Go! Now! You must not disappoint me!”

The Wax Bellman scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his long limbs as he made for the door. The Lady slammed the door behind him as soon as he’d crossed the threshold, then she glared at the crayon drawing of the child again.

This child - they would threaten everything that she and her mother had worked for. Her mother’s voice appeared by her side, whispering into her ear:

_The Maw must not fail, Emiko. You must eliminate this child before they destroy the decades of work we have accomplished for this place. Do not disappoint me more than you already have._

The Lady screamed in anger. This time the lighting fixture above her shattered entirely, glass raining down upon her. But she barely noticed.

_Six...Six...Six...Six…_

The Lady let the name become a mantra in her mind, a mantra that she channeled all her power and energy into. The bright yellow of the crayon drawing burned itself into her eyes and brain.

_Six...Six...Six...Six…_

The name had been repeated so many times it was hardly a word anymore...the Lady slipped easily into an altered state of consciousness, the borders between the physical world and the magickal world blurring.

_Six...Six...Six...Six…_

The monotone chant droned on, raising power. The Lady allowed her rage to build...it would fuel her magick. Holding the drawing taut between her fingers, she imagined the scrawny child in the yellow raincoat. Where they would be, what they would be doing…

She imagined them doubled over in agony, clutching at their stomach, crippled by starvation. The little yellow canary would die of Hunger before long.

With her tendrils releasing and coiling upwards, the Lady lashed out her spell.

Then all was quiet. 

She released the drawing from her grasp and it fluttered to the floor. The shadowy magick wound back towards her body and flowed under her sleeves once more. The Lady’s body relaxed, her anger dissipating and her elegant composure returning.

It was suddenly very peaceful; the quiet was almost eerie. If not for the shattered glass strewn across the floor, it would be impossible to tell that the Lady had just been enraged enough to conjure a flurry of magick intended to curse and kill a small child.

She was very good at façades.


	5. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What went through the Lady’s mind during her final battle with Six? What thoughts and feelings played out in the final moments before her death?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this passage: Violence; character death; some suicidal ideation.

Perhaps in a different life, little Six could have been the Lady’s successor.

She was strong-willed, sharp, and intelligent. The Lady had known this, and cursed her with Hunger in an effort to kill her or at least slow her escape from the Maw...but now here she was.

Several weeks had passed since the Lady had initially cursed Six. And yet after all that time, the little canary was here in the flesh, very much alive. And from the Wax Bellman’s observations through his Eyes, she had not only survived the Hunger, but had adapted to it.

Essence absorption. The ability to take on part of a living being’s soul. Six could absorb the qualities of the creatures she fed upon, and use those qualities to aid her. Tiny though this child was, she was much stronger than the Lady. Six had it - she had that power, that rare quality, that potential for magick that the Lady had been seeking out for decades. And now that very child she had been seeking would kill her.

A thought crossed the Lady’s mind. Perhaps if Six had been her daughter, raised from birth to be her successor, she would be a fine leader to the Maw. But it was clear now that Six would never be suitable. The way she looked at the Lady with blazing eyes, her jaw set and her stance firm despite her scrawniness, the Lady knew that she was the light. Six was not of darkness. She could never lead the Maw. She was too good-hearted, her sense of justice too strong.

The Lady calmly beheld the little girl, tilting her chin downwards to see her more clearly from beneath the mask. Her shadows were roiling just below the surface of her skin, twisting and writhing at the sound of her mother’s encouragement, wanting to burst free from the Lady’s body and kill the enemy. Her mother’s fierce whispers echoed within every fibre of her...but for the first time in her life, the Lady paid them no heed for now.

There was a small part of the Lady that wanted Six to defeat her. For many fruitless years she had been trapped here, a slave to the demands of her long-dead mother. She had done her best...but ultimately, by her mother’s impossible standards, she had failed to be perfect. A tiny, hidden part of the Lady ached with longing, yearned for the nightmare to end.

And yet there was also a larger part of the Lady that refused to bow to that fate. A part that had been shaped from childhood to obey her mother. She would not die so easily, and not by the hands of a mere _child._ The hisses of her mother whipped into a crescendo in her skull, mesmerising and striking. Before she knew it, every last particle of her magick was erupting from her core, jetting towards the miniscule girl in yellow.

_You must fight, Emiko. Defeat the light. Protect what we’ve worked for._

Chained in a desperate, wrathful trance, the Lady fought Six. Perhaps it was so she could die with a sense of honour, a sense that she had at least tried her best to defend herself and not given up so easily. But in truth, if it were not for her mother’s commands and the crushing guilt she felt when she disobeyed them, the Lady would have surrendered herself to Six in a heartbeat.

She fought tooth and nail. Her tendrils lashed out time and time again, and each time she was scorched by the blazing white light of Six’s mirror. She dissolved into the darkness, hugging her seared body and allowing herself to recover for only a moment before she struck out once more.

_I failed, I failed, I failed, I failed-_

She circled around the tiny girl again, melting into the shadows like a dark swan, but each time she attacked, she was forced backwards by the blinding light. Again and again and again her mother’s voice ordered her to strike. A heavy surge reverberated inside her mind, that eerie three-note tune building and swelling and fogging her thoughts. Even in death, her mother’s influence was still very much intact.

_Strike, Emiko. Kill the girl. Kill the light!_

The Lady staggered forth. She trembled as sweat trailed down her ivory skin, her tendrils shakily extended towards Six’s light. Welcoming it, no matter how painful it was to abandon the path that her mother had laid down for her since birth.

The mirror flared a final time. The next thing the Lady realised was that she had dragged herself through the dust, away from the battle and the broken glass. Her strength had almost left her, and her life was ebbing. The Maw kept thrumming its everlasting drone and rocked with the tide, impartial.

The shallow breaths of Six were above her. With the last of her movement, the Lady positioned herself so that the little canary could feast. In those final moments, there was quiet. The ghost of her mother was gone forever, and the Lady’s thoughts were her own. 

_Thank you, Six..._

Peace washed over her, and she did not struggle. She closed her eyes as she felt Six’s hot breath upon her neck. Six was the light, the force that would set her free. The Lady surrendered beneath the girl’s tiny, yet ravenous, jaws.

_May you spread your light far._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks very much for reading! I know this was kinda half-baked but truth is I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for a while (but I still really wanted to get this passage out and finish the collection). Hopefully you enjoyed it nonetheless. If you liked this, feel free to check out my other Little Nightmares fic ‘Children of the Maw’ if you haven’t already! Have a great day/night! ^-^


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